


Year Four

by Aviantei



Series: Years Series [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Except twenty-something me had to pick up the pieces, F/M, It's still that self-indulgent HP fic from when you're sixteen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-06-26 15:58:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 15,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19771585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aviantei/pseuds/Aviantei
Summary: Ivy Matrons thought the craziness was over with after her third year... Year Four would prove her wrong. [MalfoyxOC]





	1. Year Four: When You Start The Year Off With A Bang Before The Year Even Starts, You Have To Wonder Whether Or Not It's A Good Thing

**Author's Note:**

> This work was originally posted on fanfiction.net between April 5, 2010 and December 16, 2017. Well, at least I did finish it, if nothing else!

**Year Four**

Chapter One

Year Four: When You Start The Year Off With A Bang Before The Year Even Starts, You Have To Wonder Whether Or Not It's A Good Thing

* * *

I had all-too happily returned home after my term at Hogwarts was over, which slightly confused my parents, but pleased them nonetheless. All of my mother's concerns of me becoming a "rebellious teenager" from the previous summer had been washed away, and I was thrown an extravagant (yet private) fourteenth birthday party in the middle of July, where I was showered with gifts. All funds needed had come from our abundant sources passed down through our pure-blooded ancestry.

And then it happened, the event that completely threw me for a loop. I, like many others, had the intention of attending the Quidditch World Cup finals, which were being held in Britain this year. However, my parents had other plans. They were both members of the Ministry of Magic, and had a business trip they needed to go on, which would span over the last two weeks of my vacation, including the World Cup. Since they had all intentions of giving me whatever I wanted, they recruited the services of a fellow wizarding family that we were acquainted with.

Which was why, at that very moment, I was in fact at the Quidditch World Cup, with none other than Draco Malfoy staring at me.

While this action annoyed me, I could almost see why he was doing just that. Since Muggles, humans who were incapable of performing magic, were employed for this event, we were supposed to dress like them, as to avoid suspicion. In opposition to my school robes that Draco normally saw me in, I had taken to full Muggle garb. Staying true to the fact that I was in Slytherin, both my pants and shirt were green, but the light jacket was a deep purple. Why did I need a jacket if it was the middle of summer? I didn't, really, but the thing was damn comfy. To top off the whole ensemble, I had shoved what I could of my already short brown hair under a hat. I had also toyed with the concept of fake glasses over my dark brown eyes, but eventually decided against it.

Draco himself, with the same silver-blond hair and silver-gray eyes as always, had also resorted to Muggle clothing, but if someone had to pick out which one of us was a pureblood and which one wasn't, they would have most likely chosen him. He had probably decided that if he _had_ to dress like this, he was going to have the best. I personally thought he looked a little stuffy, but who was I to judge?

Though I was grateful to the Malfoys for actually agreeing to put up with me for two weeks, I would have much rather been with any other family right now, even if I didn't really know them. Most preferably, I would've come with Marika Kanda, a girl who I had befriended my first year at Hogwarts. However, she had seemed to disappear the moment we stepped off the Hogwarts Express, and, if every other year was an indicator, I wouldn't see her again until I once again stepped foot on that train.

"Come now, Draco, it's rude to stare," I chided, chucking as I did so. Even if the boy was a pompous brat, he was fun to tease.

Draco scowled at the comment, but took a minute to come up with a rebuttal. "I wouldn't have to stare if you would dress sensibly, Matrons," he responded, using my surname. "What the hell are those?"

I rolled my eyes at this. "They're clothes, Draco; I thought that much was obvious. I also intend to keep wearing them. That is, unless, you would much rather I run around naked." He gaped for a moment, a very light shade of pink crossing over his cheeks, which was easy to spot with his pale complexion. I smirked at my victory before greeting the person I saw approaching us. "Hello, Mr. Malfoy!"

At this, Draco quickly straightened out his expression and turned around to face his father. The family resemblance was very obvious, and one I never became entirely used to. Lucius Malfoy was essentially an older version of his son, the only main difference being that Lucius had grown out his hair to be a few inches past his shoulders.

"Hello, Ms. Matrons," Lucius greeted. "I assume that both you and Draco are ready to go." He took a moment to observe my clothing, which I knew I should have expected. Like father, like son, I supposed.

"Yes, sir, I'm good to go," I dutifully responded, smiling. "What about you Draco?" I had every intention of actually getting Draco involved in this conversation. He simply nodded, still put off from my earlier comment. Regardless of whether Ireland or Bulgaria won the match, I already officially dubbed this day to be the best part of my summer.

Later on, while I was stuck running, I wondered exactly what the hell I had been thinking. The match had been fine; Lucius had secured seats for us in the Minister's box, and I had been able to happily watch as Ireland defeated Bulgaria, 170-160, a much more interesting game than the ones that were held at Hogwarts. However, during the following celebrations, chaos had broken out as Death Eaters, who were supporters of Lord Voldemort, decisively had gone on a rampage.

To be honest, the running hadn't been my idea, but Draco's, and I mentally cursed the boy for it as I reluctantly followed him into the woods that surrounded the campsite. As much as I hated looking at it this way, the two of us had absolutely no reason to run. We were both of pureblood ancestry, not to mention Draco's parents were Death Eaters themselves, which was why they weren't with us at the moment. I decided to bring these particular points up.

Draco seemed quite pleased with my concern, and he smirked. He stopped running, with me doing the same right behind. "I'm kind of surprised you actually followed me this far out, Matrons," he remarked, turning to fully face me.

I sighed deeply, irritated already. "Mind telling me _why_ I just ran for no damn good reason?" I demanded. I had never been a very athletic person, unless it came to Quidditch. Then again, Quidditch was conveniently a sport that didn't involve any running.

"Well, it's nothing terribly important, Ivy," Draco responded, the use of my first name letting me know something was up, not to mention making me uncomfortable. The fact that I was slowly getting backed up into one of the surrounding trees made the feeling even worse. "I'm just trying to pick up some unfinished business from last year. You do remember last year, don't you?"

Did I remember? What a stupid question, of course I did. I had been trying to relax at my favorite spot on the Hogwarts grounds, when none other than Draco had showed up, sporting a black eye, which I later learned to be the work of Hermione Granger. And what had happened after that…

"So, tell me, Draco, how did Madam Pomfrey react when you came up to the hospital wing with two black eyes?" I questioned, relishing on my memory of giving him a particularly nasty left hook. I had considered going for the nose, but hadn't particularly felt like getting blood on my robes.

I was expecting a retort to my query, but didn't get one. Instead, Draco moved closer to do the very same thing that had gotten him punched last time, and I mentally resolved that he wasn't leaving without a broken nose, no matter what bullshit explanation I would have to give his parents, and quite possibly mine, later.

Draco slowly pulled his lips away from mine, and I waited for the wave of anger that would send my fist flying into his face and the wonderful crunching noise that would follow. After a few moments of nothing happening, I was sorely confused as to what was going on. It seemed so was Draco, since he was gaping at me again.

"You _liked_ it," he whispered, though it sounded more like he was convincing himself as opposed to rubbing it in my face. "You actually _liked_ it…"

The revelation hit me just as it had hit him, and I was forced to employ the tree behind me as support. I simply stood there, staring into his eyes. It scared me, knowing that I had no real evidence to prove otherwise. If all else failed, I could always claim insanity, which seemed about right. After all, what other explanation was there that could make it true? Draco Malfoy had _kissed_ me, and I had _liked_ it…

Then the sound of approaching footsteps and voices came, snapping the two of us back to reality. Draco opted out to lean against a different part of the tree and watch the scene at the campsite through a gap in the trees, his arms folded. I, having no real reasoning as to _why_ I suddenly felt cold, pulled my arms around my chest in what could be described as a self-hug and determinedly stared off in the opposite direction.

I didn't listen to Draco's conversation with Harry Potter and friends. My mind was too busy reeling at the fact that I still had another week in the Malfoy household.


	2. Year Four: No Matter How Old You Are, Childish Revenge is Still Fun, and Apparently Leads to Dramatic, End-of-Chapter Cliffhangers

**Year Four**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Two

Year Four: No Matter How Old You Are, Childish Revenge is Still Fun, and Apparently Leads to Dramatic, End-of-Chapter Cliffhangers

* * *

As for how I spent that last week, I took on a more nomadic existence of coming out to eat, then avoiding Draco at every possible turn, mostly by staying in my room. This, of course, worried Narcissa (Draco's mother), in an action much akin to that of my own mother. She more than once asked about how I was feeling (pissed off) and if there was anything she could do to help (kill her son) whenever our paths crossed. I held back my real feelings and assured her that everything was fine, adding some excuse similar to me studying in preparation for the upcoming year.

However, how I was spending my time in the heavily furnished guestroom that had been provided to me was another story. While I _had_ tried to make good use of my time and study, my mind had become more preoccupied with other things. Or should I simply say "thing." Because I'm pretty damn sure it can be easily guessed what had been going through my mind at that time.

Draco had kissed me. _Again!_ And I had let him. _Again!_ I felt extremely stupid at my actions in both events. I had even let him be my first kiss… Dammit! All in all I felt really irritated at myself… and him, of course. Then again, the main issue I had difficulty dealing with was that last time I wasn't even mad enough to punch him. Which, like he had said, meant I had enjoyed it. And after everything I had done to not get involved with a spoiled brat like him…

My only solution was to be extremely pissed off at myself… and most certainly him as well.

The barriers I had put up to keep my foul mood away from Mrs. Malfoy (I really didn't want to cause any trouble) fell away the instant I finally boarded the Hogwarts Express, and I stormed my way past the other students and into a blank compartment. I sat down, sulking/seething as I waited for someone to attempt to join me so I could bite their head off. Unfortunately, whenever the door slid open, I had to contain myself.

The reason was simple: the person now accompanying me and my attitude was Marika Kanda, one of the few people at Hogwarts I didn't mind being associated with. It had nothing to do with the whole pureblood/Slytherin thing. I had simply become acquainted with her in our first year and she had stuck with me ever since. Her hair was an overly impossible shade of dark purple I attributed to non-caring parents and a bit of magic, though her eyes were a light shade of blue that my mind always associated with a clear summer sky. Almost always chipper and occasionally crazy sounding with her talk of supposed other dimensions, Marika always kept things interesting.

She looked at me once and immediately brightened up at my foul mood—apparently I reminded her of someone back home whenever I got like this. She stowed away her trunk in the storage of our compartment, rechecked that she had closed the door properly, and sat down on the cushion across from me, an overly happy smile on her face. Then, without missing a beat and avoiding what could have been a semi-awkward silence, she asked the question she had probably wanted to since she had made her entrance. "So, who pissed you off and when do you want me to blow them up in Potions?" She was referencing her lovely disposition for sending up concoctions in smoke and the fact that her Slytherin status prevented the professor for that subject and head of said house, Snape, from really caring what we did as long as it was able to be reasonably ignored.

" _Draco_ ," I spat, and her eyebrows automatically shot up. In the four years we've known each other, I've only gotten pissed off at Draco twice, the first during our second year when he was running his mouth about the Chamber of Secrets, and the second last year when he had kissed me the first time. Of course, I had never told Marika about that kiss since that would have only solidified her theory of me and Draco making a good couple. Before, it was easy for me to deny such accusations, but now…

"Wow," she marveled. "He must have done something really horrible." Damn right he had done something horrible! "I don't think I've seen you this mad _ever_. What'd he do, kiss you or something?" I worked hard to contain my wince since it would have given everything away and thankfully succeeded. I didn't feel any color in my cheeks either. So far, so good.

"Nah, he seemed to have all his limbs in tact and functioning, so that couldn't have been it," she continued. "Sure, he could've gotten it fixed with magic, but he wouldn't have been looking so smug when I walked by him. How much trouble can you get into when you've only been on the train ten minutes?"

I realized that even if I didn't mention my excursion to the Malfoy home, Marika would find out eventually, because she just seemed to be able to do know about everything. Just when I was about to bring it up, another voice floated in from the hallway, piercing my brain. Both Marika and I turned our heads towards the door at the sound of Draco loudly going on about Durmstrang, one of the other top magical schools in Europe, and how he would've gone there if it weren't for his mother worrying. Part of my brain recognized it as truth, and another brought up something both my father and Draco's had mentioned. But the train of thought was put on the back burner as another familiar face crossed the door's window.

I noted the person and her shoulder-length brown hair's existence, and by the time she had walked past the door, I felt really grateful that she was there. With Draco's voice growing in volume as its owner came closer to the compartment, I practically flung myself towards the door and almost slammed it open. I kept hold of the handle and leaned outwards, turning myself to the right.

"Nickolle!" I shouted, waving my free arm sporadically. The girl with brown hair that had just passed the window automatically turned her head at the sound of her name, showing off the brilliant orange eyes that rested behind lenses in the shape of large, fat ovals. Why was it that my friends all had these exotic looks when I was so plain? "Hey, why don't you come sit with us?" I was very aware that my voice was much louder than it needed to be; people on the other end of the train could probably hear me. But that really didn't matter since I was too busy thanking the universe that Nickolle had been walking towards Draco, and I could see the expression on his face: one of combined shock and disgust.

Nickolle silently nodded towards me and turned around to make her way towards the compartment. As she entered behind me, I threw a satisfied and superior smirk in Draco's direction before shutting the door. Marika was helping Nickolle stow away her trunk and I pulled down the blinds that would cover the window and block out the rest of the train for a while. I took back the seat I had been in earlier, and Marika did the same, moving over a bit to allow Nickolle a place to sit.

"Well, well, well, the uninvolved Ivrena Matrons intentionally causes a scene," Marika commented happily, looking like she was going to burst out of sheer pleasure. "Come on, tell me what he did before poor little Nickolle-chan here gets confused." My best friend dropped her arm around the other female's shoulders. Nickolle herself actually got in her first words since I had seen her last.

"What whom did?" she asked, with an obviously apparent accent, even to a fellow resident of England. I wondered if she would mind that I had just used her in a bit of childish revenge. Then again, considering who she was, she would probably appreciate it and count it as a compliment that I was able to involve her in pissing Draco off.

Nickolle was, with a lack of a better word, a Mudblood, a witch with non-magical parents. That was reason enough that my act would stir things up amongst the students of Hogwarts; Slytherins just didn't associate with those kinds of people. Then again, I hadn't ever been a very convincing pureblood, let alone Slytherin. But the real low blow with this was that, once again, back in our second year, little first-year Ravenclaw, Nickolle Dukes, had successfully handed Draco's ass to him with a simple charm. Marika and I had front row seats to that escapade, and it had been plenty of reason enough for us to befriend her.

"What Draco-chan did, apparently." Marika's voice broke me out of my thoughts. I struggled to find a good pick-up place and excuse that held no romantic connotations whatsoever. The tricky part with Marika was that you had to be very convincing with your lies or she just saw right through you.

"Oh, yes, he was being obnoxious just then, wasn't he?" Nickolle added on in her usual grammatically perfect sentences. I waited for Marika to redirect the conversation to me, but she apparently missed the opening because Nickolle continued on with ease. "He was going on about some place called Durmstrang, correct? What's that?"

"It's another wizarding school like ours," Marika cheerfully informed. I duly noted that she, once again, seemed to know everything. "But if you don't know about other wizarding schools, Nickolle-chan, then I suppose you don't know about the big event, right?" The Japanese girl's face turned into something almost resembling smugness, which was extremely odd on her child-like features. I just took it in relief that it meant me and my overly delicate topic were safe for the time being.

"Nickolle-chan, have you ever heard of a competition called the Triwizard Tournament?"


	3. Year Four: Sometimes It’s the Cruelty of Friends that Still Pisses You Off, No Matter the Intentions

**Year Four**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Three

Year Four: Sometimes It’s the Cruelty of Friends that Still Pisses You Off, No Matter the Intentions

* * *

My first thought was: _God, she really knows everything, doesn’t she?_

But yes, the Triwizard Tournament. That was exactly what was going on, as well as the reason why Draco had been going on about Durmstrang in the first place. Nickolle only shook her head at Marika’s question, and I decided to leave all the exposition to Marika.

“In short,” the Japanese girl said, “it’s where Hogwarts, Durmstrang, and Beauxbatons—they’re other schools, so you know—have a giant deadly tournament, in the name of showing off and international bonding.” It wasn’t as detailed of an explanation as it could have been, but I supposed that summed it up quite nicely. “It hasn’t been held in a _super_ long time, so this year is its revival!” To drag the point home, Marika erupted into a solo round of applause.

Nickolle didn’t look all that enthused by the idea. “When you say deadly, you don’t mean…” she said, eyes darting back and forth between us.

“People have died,” I said, choosing to be blunt. “The Ministry’s been going nuts trying to make it safe this year—parents just don’t like having their kids killed over trying to make their school look good. Mom’s been super busy before the holiday even started, working on getting everything settled.” Come to think of it, maybe being in the Department of Magical Games and Sports was causing her more worries than my changes in attitude over the last year. “There’s even an age limit, and it’s all volunteer basis, so you don’t have to worry your pretty little head there, Nickolle.”

Nickolle looked relived. On the other hand, Marika looked disappointed.

“Too bad, though, Ivy-chan,” she mused. “If it wasn’t, there’d be a chance it could kill Draco-chan off for you. Then we wouldn’t have to get our hands dirty! Easy, right?”

If anything, Nickolle was turning green—the queasiest I’d ever seen her. Still, she managed say, “That’s right, Ivy. Just what did Malfoy do to get such treatment?”

And in a flash, they had both turned on me, a dual gaze of complimentary colors. Nickolle was curious, but Marika was going to be unrelenting until I got over myself and spilled it, so there was no choice. Making sure the door to our compartment was locked and the blinds were down, I relented.

“If I wanted any chance to see the Quidditch World Cup, I had no choice but to stay at Malfoy Manor this summer,” I started. Marika’s eyes widened excitedly, and her hands clamped over her mouth, just barely stifling the beginnings of her gasp. “And so, in that time, Draco was an utter brat and decided that kissing me twice last year wasn’t enough for him, and it was necessary to do so again.” I stood up, hoping to abscond until Marika could at least vent her moment of victory. My reflection in the window made it possible to see that my ears were turning red. “The end. Now if you’ll excuse me.”

I went to open the door, and took a large step out into the hallway. I half expected Marika to drag me back in the room—by magical force or otherwise—but was spared from that fate.

What I wasn’t spared from, however, was running directly into Draco as he came down the hall.

“I’ll blow him up first thing in Potions class, Ivy-chan!” Marika cheered, as if that was supposed to change the fact that she had just _slammed the door to the compartment shut behind me._ My hand flew back to the handle, except the thing didn’t budge. She had _locked_ it.

She had seriously just locked it!

_You have got to be kidding me!_

Draco—whose expression had been light from laughter until a moment ago—went from a sneer to one of moderate surprise. I guessed the first one was from an intent to tell off whoever had run into him. But still, all my hard work to avoid him, tossed out the window because I wanted to get away from an interrogation that was going to happen anyway…

“Come to your senses, have you, Matrons?” Draco recovered the use of his vocal cords and sarcasm first. “Realized that the air around a Mudblood is just is filthy as they are and needed a breather?” Behind him, Crabbe and Goyle gave chortles of approval.

Well, this wasn’t going to get the chance to be a substantial conversation, so smack talk it was. I leaned back against the compartment door, folding my arms across my chest. “On the contrary,” I retorted, “I figured that getting a few lungfuls of utter jackass would put me in perspective. Let me appreciate the good company all the more. Oh, not that you’d know what that’s like.” If it weren’t for the fact that I had once cursed Goyle, giving him a number of nasty blisters, I’m sure he would have tried to punch me.

I could almost hear Marika giving an over exaggerated “Ohhhh!” in my mind. Or maybe she was eavesdropping in on the conversation and I could hear her through the door. Both were equally likely.

I had expected at least some sort of visible reaction from Draco in my favor, but he only gave his stupid smirk. “You’re right.” His tone was nowhere close to a realization of repentance. “I did have to put up with you in my house for half the summer.”

I clenched my fists to prevent myself from drawing my wand. Maybe I could give him the punch he so rightfully deserved—he was building up quite the pile of them at this point. Though if I made a habit of it, Marika would just add it to her ridiculous theories, somehow twisting it in her favor.

But at this point, were they really just theories?

Before, the thought would have made me sick. Now, it felt like was disgust was being forced forward, like rusty gears that weren’t quite meant to turn.

“Well, seeing as I’m going to have to endure being around you in classes for the entire year—” Really, how had we not chosen different electives? “—I think I’m going to enjoy the fact that I have the choice to walk away now.”

I didn’t bother checking the door back into the compartment. Marika would never provide such an easy out. I turned on my heel, and stalked down the hallway. I could hear Draco’s initial sound of indignation, followed by an angry “Don’t you walk away from me, Matrons!” Feh. Like I had any reason at all to listen.

I could walk wherever I damned well pleased.

Still, a train was a confined space. There were only so many places to go, and really only one main path to go on. If Draco wanted to start something, I would have a hard time avoiding him without getting back to my own compartment, which he was currently blocking the path to.

“Last chance to get anything from the trolley!”

Up ahead of me was the trolley witch, who suddenly seemed like an angel to me. She was making her way back up the train on her second round apparently. Most kids had gone ahead and bought their fair share, but a few stragglers poked their heads out in interest, including the unmistakable redhead of a Weasley.

_Well, it’s not like there are many other appropriate ways to deal a finishing blow…_

I upped my pace, narrowly avoiding colliding with the arm of a less than pleased looking Hufflepuff on the way. “Howdy, Fred. Howdy, George,” I greeted, ducking into their compartment and locking the door behind me. The trolley witch rolled past, and I was almost tempted to peek back into the hall to taunt Draco. It was the disappointed stares I was getting from the Weasley twins that stopped me.

“Right rude, don’t you think, George?” Fred quipped, the use of his brother’s name the only reason I could distinguish them at the moment.

“I’d say,” George returned, tucking a few pieces of parchment under his leg. “At this rate, who knows if we’ll make it to the feast without any snacks to sustain us.”

Their tones were light and joking, but not entirely full of ease. Then again, they only knew me indirectly—Marika was the social one, and her skills (or perhaps somewhat intimidating demeanor?) had allowed her to get along with members from other houses, even as a Slytherin. I was tolerated because I didn’t cause as much trouble as the rest of my housemates.

Regardless of how they viewed me, something about the twins made me relax—especially after dealing with Draco.

“Listen, I’m sorry, but you’re friends with Marika, right?” I asked. The twins shared another look before nodding. Ah, maybe I should have thought this true. Well, no sense in going back and dealing with Draco now. “I know we don’t talk much—” The correct amount being _at all_. “—but I just need an out for a moment. My mother sends me way more candy than necessary every year. You can have all of it if you just me sit here and breeze for five minutes.”

Maybe it was a bit petty, but I never ate all that stuff, anyway. Marika had always been the one to eat the stuff, but she would just have to deal. Not hearing any objections, I sat on the cushion opposite of the twins, looking at the scenery roll by in the windows. We had barely just gotten started with the trip, but I guess the train beat sharing a common room and classes with the rest of my house, even if electives had started to split us up a bit.

The twins had resumed talking amongst themselves, muttering too low for me to hear anything. Even if it meant getting teased, I wished for Marika’s presence. She would at least make things a bit less awkward. Adjusting in my seat, I brought my hand down on a stray piece of parchment, producing a crinkle.

“Sorry,” I apologized as Fred and George look at me. I picked up the paper to hand it back. “What? Weasley’s Wizard Whee—”

“Top secret, I’m afraid,” Fred quipped, snatching the paper back from me and rolling it back up.

“In house only this year,” George added, stowing the parchment away in a bag. There looked to be several more parchments lined up, some of them scrawled with budget numbers. Whatever they were trying to do, it certainly would take a fair bit of gold. I frowned a bit. Maybe Marika knew…

She had never said anything, though. So I guess I could take a chance.

“Not to be rude,” I said, trying not to eye their suspicious paperwork too much. “I don’t need an advance or anything, but I’m sure Marika’s gonna pester me for support anyway.” I could see George furrow his brow as Fred tried to kick their bag under the seat. “If you guys need an investment, I’m more than happy to oblige.”

_“Don’t mess around with us,”_ they remarked in unison. It was actually kind of intimidating. _“Put your money where your mouth is, Matrons._ ”

I dug around in my pockets. Mother had left me with some spare change before boarding the train, mainly for the traditional snacks. But I wasn’t particularly hungry, and that left me with several Galleons that didn’t have a home.

I flicked the coins out, tossing them towards the twins’ laps. They managed to catch them alright, looking rightfully suspicious. Well, I guess it didn’t look like much more than I was trying to pay them off. Damn, this whole Pureblood thing sucked sometimes.

“Think of it as an expression of gratitude, okay?” I said, trying not to sound too conceited. “That’s just what I have in my pockets. I think a lot of us could use a few wheezes in our lives, okay?”


	4. Year Four: Ferrets Are Officially the Best Animal Ever (and You Can't Convince Me Otherwise)

**Year Four**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Four

Year Four: Ferrets Are Officially The Best Animal Ever (And You Can’t Convince Me Otherwise)

* * *

If there was anything that could make me stop considering that maybe I should get over it and just admit that I liked Draco (a little bit—nothing more, dammit), it was watching him show off just how much of an utter prick he was.

There were some traits of Draco that never changed no matter where he was: his arrogance, the way he carried himself, his insistence on taking whatever opening he had to voice his displeasure at something. Being in his house for the summer meant that I had seen all those traits first hand, and my lack of pride as a pureblood brought on his displeasure in droves. But I had known that would be the case when I started acting the way I did, and not just from Draco, but other purebloods, too.

But put him in an environment with other witches and wizards of varying descent and that displeasure cranked up to upright disgust. Furthermore, it expressed itself in malice, which was enough to make my stomach crawl just _thinking_ that I might have liked him.

If it weren’t for the uttermost elation of watching Moody transfigure him into a ferret, then bounce his ass all around the entrance hall, that self-loathing could’ve gotten to me. As it was, the resulting show was too good to pass up.

Draco ferret squeaked, flailing in midair. Beside me, Marika nodded her head in exaggerated movements to follow his trajectory. “You know,” I said, my eyes tracing his white form, “I forgot just how ridiculous that big mouth of his could be. When he can’t say anything, he’s almost cute.”

“Thank you for that delightful ammunition in the future, Ivy-chan,” Marika said, not looking away. I shrugged. She wasn’t going to let me down for the whole kiss thing anyway. As long as she didn’t start spreading rumors to get her kicks out of the situation, I could live with it. “Hey, you think I could introduce him to the weasel?” The weasel, which was one of the many animals kept for Transfiguration classes, had an epic saga developing every year as Marika set it loose and trailed it around the school into all sorts of weird corners.

“They’re not violent enough to make it worthwhile. Draco would just run for it anyway.”

Marika hummed, ideas for how to get the two into a confined space all but materializing from her mind. “Aw, boo. Professor McGonagall is here.”

Sure enough, said Transfiguration professor scolded Moody and returned Draco to his human form. Draco got dragged off by Moody for a conference with Snape over his behavior, which served the little git right, and McGonagall chased the rest of us off to lunch.

I paused before entering the dining hall. “Think that with Snape involved they’ll be done scolding Draco before lunch is over?”

Marika paused beside me, craning her neck to give me the proper searching look. I kept my expression as flat as I could. “Hm, well Snape will play favorites, but Moody won’t, and that’ll end in a pretty fair balance. I’d say you have like twenty to thirty minutes until they’re done.” Marika followed my gaze, trying to figure out what direction I was looking, but the twisting nature of Hogwarts made it impossible to tell. “Ivy-chan, don’t tell me you’re planning on checking on Draco and seeing if he’s okay?”

“Don’t be silly,” I said, pulling out my schedule to check what we had in our period after lunch. “I wanna see if Professor Moody will teach me how to do that spell. You know McGonagall won’t teach us for another few years or so.” Already, thoughts of being able to shut Draco up with a well-placed flick of a wand were filling my head. Deciding that I wasn’t that hungry, I stuffed my schedule away and set off in the direction of Moody’s office. “I’m gonna go wait and see if I have a chance to ask. Sneak me some lunch into History of Magic, will you?”

“You gotta teach me the spell, too,” Marika called after me after the chatter of students flooding into the dining hall after their morning classes. Whispered passes of what had just happened were already starting to circulate. “And if you get in trouble for eating in class, I take no responsibility!”

I smiled back at Marika, for what little she could see me through the crowd. We both knew she wouldn’t leave me out to dry like that. I tossed her a wave and swerved around an upcoming corner.

Sure enough to Marika’s predictions, Moody hobbled back to his office twenty minutes later. When I explained what I wanted to learn the spell for, Moody had no problems arranging an extra lesson a week for me.


	5. Year Four: Escaping One Meaningless Topic Doesn’t Mean You Won’t Encounter Another

**Year Four**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Five

Year Four: Escaping One Meaningless Topic Doesn’t Mean You Won’t Encounter Another

* * *

Mastering the art of turning Draco into a ferret wasn’t near as easy as I had hoped. It _was_ high tier transfiguration, after all. My lessons with Professor Moody were at a halt until he was sure I could handle mid-tier transfigurations, which involved an awful lot of transfiguring inanimate objects first. Moody promised we’d get into changing animals into other animals by the end of the month, while doing any business on humans was on hold.

“As much as I’d love seeing that Malfoy brat get stuck as something awful, someone’d trace it back to me,” he said in his usual deep growl. “Not worth that much trouble for a might bit of fun. Now transfigure the fur off that boot and try again.”

The bonus to all this was that, after a few weeks, I was miles ahead of the rest of our year in Transfiguration, enough that McGonagall tossed a few extra points in Slytherin’s direction, which didn’t happen often. Not that it did much to relieve the sheer amount of homework we had piled on us, from essays to reading to spell practice—all of which got swept away in the chatter that our foreign emissaries would be arriving soon.

Trying to escape the loud chatter that filled up every corner of the castle, I settled down with my homework and Nickolle in the library. She could’ve passed for a Ravenclaw with the diligence she put into her studies. Whispers still slid between the shelves when Madam Pince wasn’t around, but at least they were better than all the nonsense that came from trying to study in the Slytherin common room.

“You don’t seem very excited about the Tournament,” Nickolle whispered to me, putting down her quill. She waited for the ink to dry on her parchment before starting to roll it up. “Everyone in my house seems to be in a tizzy about it.”

I blew my bangs out of my face and leaned away from the advanced transfiguration book I had pulled from the shelves in hopes that it would shed some light on what Moody wanted me to do next. It was going nowhere, couldn’t quite convince myself to write the History of Magic essay due in two days. Checking our surroundings for the resident librarian, I leaned forward and whispered back, “There’s not much point of it. We’re not gonna be able to participate even if we wanted to.”

Entering Hogwarts at age eleven, I had wanted the process to go fast so I could move on with my life. Nickolle, who came from the world of Muggles, couldn’t have seen things that way. “Yes, but it’s something exciting, right? I’m interested in meeting these foreign wizards. I’ve always wanted to travel…”

“I’ll take you on vacation sometime, then,” I said. Nickolle’s eyes went wide and she started shaking her head. “It’s not a big deal…I mean, my family takes trips all the time. Bringing someone along will be fun.”

Nickolle laughed under her breath. “If I went on my own, Nickolas would get jealous.” Nickolas Dukes, Nickolle’s brother, was part of Ravenclaw. We didn’t know each other well, but Nickolle cared about him, so I wouldn’t go overboard. “Thank you very much for the offer, though.”

“Just let me know if you change your mind.” I looked over to Nickolle’s books, which included _my_ favorite textbook from the previous year, _The Monstrous Book of Monsters_. “How’s being a third year treating you, though? Electives aren’t being too harsh on you, are they?”

“Not at all. I’m enjoying everything immensely.” Nickolle eyed my own stack of books, which was twice as tall as hers. “How are your studies, though? You seem a bit overwhelmed.”

This time, I shook my head. “Nothing I can’t handle.” Or, rather, nothing I couldn’t force myself to handle. The workload wouldn’t be too difficult if I didn’t let myself get distracted my nonsensical things, like Draco Malfoy. “All the more reason not to get caught up in the tournament hype, right? I have better things to focus on.” Nickolle pondered those words as I set the transfiguration text aside and resigned myself to the horoscopes Trelawney wanted done. “You look like you have something you want to ask.”

Nickolle jumped a bit, her cheeks tinting pink. “Oh, nothing much. It’s irrelevant, and I don’t want to distract you…”

“Being friends with Marika is a twenty-four hour distraction,” I said. Speaking of the girl, I guessed she was experimenting with potions again. Four years in school together, and I still had no idea when she did her damn homework. “You’re not gonna bother me, so go ahead.” I waved Nickolle on.

“If you insist, Ivy.” Nickolle lowered her voice even further, so quiet I had to strain myself to hear her. “I was just wondering how much of what Marika said about you and Draco Malfoy is true.”

I sucked in a breath, trying not to seethe too much. “And what, pray tell, did she say?”

Nickolle fidgeted with her quill, dribbling ink onto her fingers. “Well, you said yourself that he kissed you.” I grimaced at the reminder. I’d been able to forget the incident since all my spare thoughts had gone into imagining him as a ferret again. “I guess I’m confused why you let him get away with it. He’s rather vile, and you’ve never liked dealing with the rest of your house, either.” I had made a point of that when I’d asked to be friends with Nickolle in the first place. “So why haven’t you done anything to make him stay away from you?”

I thought it over. It would be easy to make him stay away. Beyond our regular verbal sparring (and the time I had punched him), I could have avoided him altogether if it weren’t for Marika’s interference. Even then, if I had asked her to let it be, she would listen. But Marika sometimes read me far better than I read myself, so she hadn’t backed off because I didn’t mean it.

I knew that. I had figured that out when he’d kissed me in the chaos of the Quidditch World Cup. Despite his, as Nickolle had said, vile attitude, I still liked something about him. If I wanted to think about that further…

“Nickolle, remember how I said that I have better things to focus on?”

“It was only three minutes ago, Ivy.”

“Then let’s pick a different topic or get back to our homework please.”

Nickolle smiled, her orange eyes seeming brighter than usual. “Of course. Apologies for the poor choice of topic.”

“You’re forgiven.”


	6. Year Four: I Could’ve Had a Normal School Life at Hogwarts, But I had to be in the Same Class as Potter

**Year Four**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Six

Year Four: I Could’ve Had a Normal School Life at Hogwarts, But I had to be in the Same Class as Potter

* * *

Marika, along with every other person in our godforsaken house, seemed to have something against sleeping in when Halloween rolled around. Considering the Goblet of Fire—magical artifact, point of entry for the Triwizard Tournament, all around massive cup—was out in the entrance hall meant that most people had gathered to see who all was gearing up to enter their names. Marika snatched a substantial amount of toast and bacon from the Great Hall, levitated it between me, herself, and a bleary eyed Nickolle, and settled down to watch as the Weasley twins failed to trick Dumbledore’s Age Line and got massive beards for the trouble.

“Boo, I thought that brew would do it for them,” Marika said between mouthfuls of bacon sandwich. For once, she was frowning, dissatisfied with her potions work. “Oh, right, they asked me to barter with you Ivy-chan. Said if you passed along the next part of an investment for the joke shop, they’d pass along some experimental goods on the condition you use them on Slytherins.”

“Joke shop?” Nickolle echoed, trying to get grease off her fingers without wiping it on her robes. A sixth-year Slytherin, Darrin Botwright, glanced at the Age Line and decided it wasn’t worth trying to skip over. “Isn’t one already placed in Hogsmeade?”

Marika tutted before placing a finger to her lips. “Don’t compare a Fred and George creation to such mundane pranks. Also, keep it hush-hush for now, okay? They’re still in the developmental phase.”

Nickolle nodded very much like she had no idea what Marika was talking about. “I’ll mail home for some gold in the next care package after I finish up my homework,” I said. They could have the whole box for all I cared. If it wouldn’t make it so suspicious to just deliver the thing to them, I would have done it. “I assume I can trust you to pass everything along, Marika?”

She nodded. “Yuppers, I’m cool with taking care of that stuff.” Stuffing down the rest of her breakfast, Marika hopped to her feet. “Ooh, this is gonna be so cool. I’m gonna go try and get evidence of those beards before Madam Pomfrey charms them off. Don’t miss dinner tonight!”

“Does she ever slow down?” Nickolle asked.

“Absolutely not. Wanna find a place to study before the whole school explodes?”

Too bad it wasn’t that easy. Between people trying to get glimpses of the foreign students, most of all Victor Krum, exchanging names of who had gone into the Goblet, and just the general bustle of the weekend, focusing on my homework was a nigh impossible challenge. Never mind the sheer uproar on campus when not three, but four candidates were selected for the tournament, Harry Potter included. It was so much that not even Madam Price could keep the library silent and kicked everyone out. The pile of books I’d been using threatening to break through the seams of my bag, I hauled myself up to the Owlery.

Though I didn’t play Quidditch for the house team, I’d always been a fan of flying. Being up in the Owlery tower, with the chilly evening wind and view of Hogwarts, tended to relax me. On the present occasion, my frayed nerves didn’t even allow that. I dropped my bag into a clean patch of straw, dug out some parchment to write home with, and tried not to stab through to my textbook beneath as I apologized to my mom for all the trouble Potter’s entry into the Triwizard Tournament must’ve be causing her before asking for some extra galleons.

“You’d think,” I said as I wrote, “that Potter would get sick and tired of almost dying every year.”

“I think that’s the sanest thing I’ve heard you say in a long time, Matrons,” Draco’s voice echoed from across the Owlery. I started hard enough that I spilled ink across my letter, book, and robes. Scowling, I started to mop up the mess with my wand. “You’re not feeling ill are you?” The word carried just enough sarcasm to them that I knew he wasn’t concerned in the slightest.

As had been my default for years, I put on a smile I’d emulated from Marika, and said as sweet as I could, “No, but you’re going to be when I dump all this ink down your throat.” Malfoy dusted off his hands as his family’s owl took flight and crossed back over to me. I set aside the note and stood, refusing to have him look down on me. “What’s that? Sending your latest and greatest ideas for tormenting Potter to your father for his feedback?”

I may have never gotten along with Potter, but I didn’t have the same sheer animosity for him Draco led the rest of our house in. Marika tended to orchestrate counter-pranks when such things started happening, but I had stayed the hell away from all that nonsense. Given what had just happened, things would only get worse in Care of Magical Creatures the next day.

“Nothing you’d be interested in,” Draco said, trying to sneak a peek at my own letter. I poked him with my still out wand and he backed off. I wished I could transfigure more than a housecat into a raccoon at this point. “Wand down, Matrons. I just figured you’d be keeping out of all this. Don’t tell me you complain about Potter in secret while we’ve all got our back turned.”

“Why would I ever waste my energy on something you do plenty for the rest of us?” Draco didn’t even bother to look ashamed at the statement. I considered cursing him while no one else was around, but didn’t feel like dealing with the upcoming backlash on top of everything else. “Whatever you’re planning, I’ll stay the hell the way from that mess.”

Draco shrugged, still eying my wand. I twirled it in between my fingers before tucking it back in my robes. I’d test out my ferret transforming powers when Moody stopped screaming “Constant vigilance!” at me—which, upon further consideration, I could’ve used a more realistic goal to work with.

“Whatever,” Draco said, without any further prodding.

I raised an eyebrow. “It’s not like you to back off so easily.”

“No sense in wasting my energy on a strategy isn’t going to work.”

“Oh, I get it then!” I snapped my fingers, causing a nearby school owl to ruffle its feathers. “You kissed me at the Quidditch World Cup because you wanted me to punch you again. Sorry, I misinterpreted.” I stretched my shoulders. “To make up for it, I’ll deck you right now. Would you like it from the right or left this time?”

Draco raised a hand, like he was about to push my fists back down, but seemed to think better of touching me. Relief and disappointment seeped into me as Draco returned his hands to his pockets. “You didn’t argue when I said you liked it,” he said, almost under his breath.

I fought back the need to clear my throat, the dimming light hiding the blush starting to run up my neck. “You, see, Draco, your kissing capability has nothing to do with your personality. If I didn’t know better, I’d say they were inversely related given how nasty you’ve been lately.” That time, I heard the sound catch in Draco’s throat. I leaned over to pick up my letter and start scribbling out the last few pleasantries before passing it off to a long-legged digger owl. “Work on that and we’ll see. Good night, Draco.”

I managed to gather up my things and make it down the Owlery stairs without looking like I was running away. Which was good, because I needed to convince myself just as much as I needed to convince Draco.


	7. Year Four: With a Name Like Pansy Parkinson, it’s No Wonder this Girl’s Such a Bitch

**Year Four**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Seven

* * *

“You’re staying at Hogwarts this Christmas,” Marika announced over her newest bubbling creation in Potions class in December. She looked over her desk, picked up a small vial of bright red powder, and balanced it right over the top of her cauldron so that the slightest twitch would dump the contents in. “You’re not gonna miss out on the Yule Ball—it’s a once in a lifetime event. You get what I’m saying, _right_?”

Marika beamed at me and shook the bottle a little bit; a bit of red slipping into her cauldron, producing a hiss and a stench like molten Dungbombs. “Understood,” I said. Marika always stayed at school for the holidays, and I didn’t mind keeping her company.

I also didn’t mind the idea of going to the Yule Ball. The thought that Draco might ask me did have something to do with it.

He hadn’t stopped giving Potter shit, though the completion of the First Task had dulled how much he could rile others up to go along with him. When he passed, casual banter seemed easier. Marika spent all her time smirking at me, and had even gotten Nickolle in on it, but didn’t prod the situation further. I supposed she was happy enough with how things were progressing.

The holidays started, leaving everyone in a bustle of preparations. Draco hadn’t done anything to ask me, but the first morning of break I thought about asking him and getting it over with. Marika had announced her intentions to hang around with the Weasley twins, so it would be best to do it while she was distracted. Dropping off my books in the dorm, I dodged out of Pansy Parkinson’s way as she slunk her way up the stairs with Millicent Bullstrode.

“So, this sixth year Botwright asked me to the ball this morning. I had to turn him down, though, because Draco—”

I slammed my palm on the handrail and whirled around, but Pansy just kept on her prancing upstairs, chattering all the way. If it were anyone else besides Draco, I could’ve thought I’d gotten my names mixed up. But then again, who else would Pansy go for? They’d had fun antagonizing everyone in their sights since we’d been first years.

I went for my wand but clenched my fist. Satisfying as cursing her would have been, it wouldn’t have helped anything. No, I had to go for the source.

I thundered down into the common room, looking for signs of Draco’s pale hair. I caught sight of him just as he strode in the entryway, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. “Matrons,” Draco said as he caught sight of me storming towards him.

“Malfoy, not another word until I’ve decided I’m not going to scream irrationally at any word you say,” I said. Before the wall could shut again, I grabbed onto Draco’s arm and dragged him back out of the common room. Crabbe and Goyle started to protest, but I was already halfway down the hallway.

The advantage to living in the dungeons was that most students didn’t go down there unless they lived there or had to go to Potions. Other than that, you didn’t see much of anyone else unless they were a ghost. Knowing only Marika would go to Snape’s classroom during a holiday, I guided Draco in that direction until I found an empty side room to shove him into.

“Okay,” I said after a few minutes to let myself breathe, “explain to me what’s going on here.”

“I’m the one who should be asking that, don’t you think?” Draco asked, trying to find a place to rest that wasn’t covered in dust. I didn’t move from my position in front of the door. “You could just ask to talk. I thought we were doing that lately.”

“Yeah, well I thought—” I growled to myself, trying to keep stupid things from coming out of my mouth. It didn’t quite work. “Pansy Parkinson? _Really_?”

Draco furrowed his brow after a moment, rare confusion flashing through his silver eyes. “This is about the Yule Ball,” he said, trying very hard to sound anything other than befuddled.

I pulled my grinding teeth apart. “Is there a problem with that?” Before he could answer, I continued. “No, never mind me, I’m the one with a problem here. I’m the one making mistakes. I thought you had a modicum of taste, Malfoy, but here I find out you want to go dancing with a pig like Parkinson—”

“Oh, was I supposed to ask you?” Draco asked, his usual scowl slipping onto his face. I stopped myself short of responding. “Let’s be real, here, Matrons. Other than your occasional conversation, you’ve made it very clear how you feel about being with me. So when someone else asks me to go to the dance, and you’ve all but said you want to be friends, there’s nothing stopping me from saying yes.”

Was he right? Yes. That I was getting pissed off when there wasn’t much excuse for it pissed me off more. “Well, I think if you had held on for maybe an extra day, you’d be surprised.” Draco’s lips parted as he processed the words. “But you’d rather date her than me. And you’re right, it’s none of my business. So it’s _fine_. Forget I said anything.” I turned to the door, but magic clicked the lock shut.

“We’re not done with this conversation,” Draco said. Not angry, just plain. I refused to look back at him, even as his footsteps echoed off the stone floor. “This isn’t about who I’d rather date. This is about respecting you and what you want.”

His voice was almost at my back. “Since when do you respect anyone but your father?”

Draco’s steps fell silent, and his mouth stayed the same.

“I don’t get what you want,” I said. I could’ve just unlocked the door and walked out. But I didn’t. “I don’t get why you deal with me even though I don’t play your little pureblood games. I don’t get why you don’t tear me apart like you would anyone else who talks out against you. And I sure as hell don’t get why you’d kiss me then just run away. But I do know that if this was about respect you wouldn’t be such a little prick all the time.”

“Ivrena,” Draco said to my back, “have you listened to a damn word I’ve said to you in the last year?”

I stomped around and shouted, “I have. I’ve listened to you run your mouth at everyone else then talk to me like a different person. I’ve listened to you talk in vague-ass terms instead of just _telling_ me how you feel. Which would have been useful before I decided that you liked me and I liked you back just so you could go dance with someone just as bratty as you.” He was just a few inches from me. I shoved him back at the chest and fumbled for the lock on the door. “So since I was wrong about how you felt about me and I’ve made a mess of myself, I’ll just go and find someone else much more worth my time and have a normal school life.”

A bit of prodding from my wand and the door was unlocked again. I twisted the handle. “Do you want me to dump Pansy and go with you?” Draco said.

The dungeons were always silent, but it felt like every other sound had melted away. Breathing was too loud. The drip of water was too loud. Everything was too loud, my heart pounding in my chest most of all.

“I want you to leave me the hell alone and forget this ever happened,” I said, even though that wasn’t the truth. And before Draco could come up with a way to refute that, or myself for that matter, I rushed into the hallway, slamming the door and locking it with my wand behind me.


	8. Year Four: Why Talk Things Over like Adults when You Can Just Use Subterfuge Instead?

**Year Four**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Eight

Year Four: Why Talk Things Over like Adults when You Can Just Use Subterfuge Instead?

* * *

By the time the Yule Ball _did_ roll around, I was certain I had to be the only student who had finished all their holiday homework. When that had exhausted itself as an option, I had taken to sulking in the Potions room and getting extra lessons from Moody to pass the time and _not_ think about what an idiot I had been.

“Dark blue is an awesome color on you,” Marika appraised as I put on the dress robes Narcissa had helped me pick out over the summer. Marika pulled off her sweater and struggled with her own robes until her mess of long purple hair popped out the neck hole. Her own outfit was black with red trimming the edges, and she started to twist her hair into some impossible arrangement. “So about Botwright…does he know you’re using him for the ‘jealous’ tactic?”

I had started to dig through my trunk, so I didn’t have to face Marika on her accusations of my “date.” To be more accurate, he was an escort, considering neither of us had found partners but at least we’d have someone to dance with. “I’m not using him to make anyone jealous,” I said, finding the box I’d prepared beforehand and tucking it into my robes. Marika’s skeptical expression met mine as I stood back up. “I’m not lying.”

“But you’re not serious about him.”

Duh. “Well, who are _you_ taking?” I asked, switching the topic around. “Last I checked your twin buddies are both occupied.”

Marika finished twining her hair into a complicated plait and flicked it over her shoulder. “I’m taking Nickolle-chan,” she said, not even fazed by my jab. “She’s a year below, so she needed someone older to go with. These sorts of things are more fun when you have people to hang out with.” Well, if Nickolle was coming, at least there’d be someone else to chat with if this didn’t work out.

“Besides,” Marika muttered, “I’ll need someone to talk to when you drag Draco into the bushes.”

I picked up the nearest pillow and threw it at her. Marika batted it out of the way. “As if.”

“Come on, Ivy-chan, we both know you’re not gonna let Pansy Pig win.” I rolled my eyes and waved, leaving for the common room. I may not have been going on an actual date with Darrin Botwright, but I wasn’t going to be late meeting up with him. Marika grumbled behind me. “What’s in the box?!”

That was my secret.

The entire common room was filled with Slytherins in a kaleidoscope of colorful dress robes. Darrin, waiting next to the entrance like we’d agreed on, offered his arm when I approached. I didn’t see any sight of Draco, but then again Pansy had still been locked up in the dorms getting ready. The less I saw of them together, the better.

“Do you think this will work?” Darrin asked me as we climbed up to the Great Hall, every passageway clustered with students doing the same. “You really don’t mind doing this for me?”

I gave him the smile my father had taught me for dealing with business matters. “No need to worry,” I said, patting the box in my pocket. “I’ve got everything under control. I promise that I’ll get you a dance, no hurt feelings.”

Okay, there were other reasons for me getting a date with someone I hardly knew. Like the fact that he’d tried asking Pansy Parkinson to the Ball and had gotten turned down. I wasn’t very infamous amongst our older classmates, so being in the same year as her could imply that we were friends, even if we weren’t. And so long as Darrin wanted at least a dance with Pansy, I could use that to my advantage.

Part of being a Slytherin was the ambition to get what you wanted and the cunning to pull it off. My bloodline wasn’t the only reason I’d been sorted into my house.

“Oh, I found you, Ivy.” Nickolle navigated the crowd around the entrance until she was up to me and Darrin. She’d put away her glasses for the evening, which, when combined with the bright yellow of her dress robes, brought out a shine in her eyes all the more. She looked around. “Is Marika not with you?”

“Present and accounted for,” Marika said, materializing at Nickolle’s side and hugging her arm. “I just had to tidy things up a bit. You didn’t think I’d abandon you, did you?”

Darrin looked startled, and my lack of reaction didn’t seem to help matters. “Don’t go making a scene so early,” I said, giving Darrin a reassuring pat on the arm. “At least let’s get into the party before you cause a ruckus.”

Marika pouted. “You are zero fun, Ivy-chan.”

_We’ll see about that_. No, I couldn’t focus on things like that. After the opening procession and dinner, the dancing started in full force. Marika, despite being shorter, lead Nickolle in a rather graceful waltz, and Darrin and I made noncommittal circles around the dancefloor. Not wanting to see the result, I let him do the scouting work.

“She’s taking a break to sit down,” Darrin said three dances in, and I could feel his palm sweating against mine. Following his line of sight, Pansy was indeed sitting down, smoothing out the frills of her dress robes. Draco didn’t seem to be with her, but it was hard to tell as the dance whirled my point of view in circles. I made subtle steps to guide us to Pansy’s position. “Is this going to be okay? I don’t think I can do this.”

I resisted the urge to stomp on Darrin’s toes. If he chickened out now, my own plan was all but screwed over. “You’re just talking to her and asking for a dance. It’s not that hard,” I hissed. We had to act fast for this to work; just thinking about Pansy simpering up to Draco made me break out in goosebumps. Making it to the edge of the dance floor, we stopped our swaying. “You take a moment to breathe. I’ll go get some drinks.”

Hefting up my skirt to powerwalk, I found the nearest refreshment table and snatched up some butterbeers. Knowing Draco had to be doing something similar, I scanned the other tables and found him close to the other side of the room. Marika was chattering at him while Nickolle hovered next to the wall behind them. I didn’t know if my friend was distracting him on purpose or not, but I’d do her a favor later on.

Turning around so no one around would see, I pulled out the box from my robes and popped the top open. Inside was an expensive collection of chocolates my parents had sent in my last care package—plus something I’d tucked away for this moment. Extracting the vial, I dropped half its components in each mug and tucked it away before returning to Darrin.

He still seemed to be nervous, though he’d dabbed away the sweat forming on his brow. “Feeling better?” I asked, still tracking Draco in the corner of my eye. The black of his dress robes made the rest of his pale features stand out, even brighter than fresh snow. Darrin muttered something that seemed to be a pep talk. “Don’t chicken out now.” I deposited the glasses of butterbeer into his hands and tucked the chocolates into his robes. “Just be confident and _keep eye contact_. Chat with her a bit before asking to dance. It’ll work out fine. If the evening goes well, give her the chocolates. She’ll love it.”

I shoved him in Pansy’s direction, and Darrin tottered off as if he’d been drinking actual alcohol. Draco had vanished from the refreshment table I’d seen him at last, and so had Marika. Not wanting to overhear any of what Pansy considered flirting, I went to take a seat myself at an empty table.

“Brewing illegal potions behind my back?” Marika asked, popping into the seat across from me. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she apparated there. As it was, she set out a few drinks on the table. “I don’t know whether to be proud or offended.”

“Leaving Nickolle all by herself? You’re such a bad date,” I said. Marika passed me one of the mugs. I took a sip, letting the frothy taste of butterbeer quench my throat.

Marika tapped her fingers on the iced mug handle. “Nickolle-chan is chatting with some of her housemates at the moment. As for you, Ivy-chan.” Marika looked across the room, finding Pansy taking Darrin’s hand as the Weird Sisters started up their newest set. “Well, I’d say you’ve lost _your_ date.”

I tutted. “What a shame.” Marika smirked at me, her stare not wavering for several minutes. It was like she didn’t need to blink. “Care to share your thoughts?”

“Well,” Marika said, “you look so charming it’d be a shame if you didn’t have someone to dance with.” I held back a snort. Marika leaned across the table. “No offense, but I know you’re not talented enough to brew a real Love Potion. I suggest you make your move before that Charming Concoction you put together wears off.”

I didn’t have any grounds to argue with her this time. So I settled for snark. “Oh, I’d already be doing that if a little annoyance wasn’t taking up my time.”

Marika stood back up and shook her head. “Don’t ever change, Ivy-chan. I promise I won’t be waiting up for you if you come in late.” She waved her gloved fingers at me and slipped back into the crowd. I didn’t have time to worry about what she was going to be getting into. I, for once in my life, needed to find Draco for a reason that wasn’t arguing with him.

“Don’t chicken out now,” I said to myself. “Just be confident.” Dammit, this was a whole lot harder than it seemed from the other side. If Darrin and I ever spoke again, I’d owe him an extra apology for being so tough on him. Skimming the crowd, I found Draco chatting with Crabbe and Goyle at the table he’d left Pansy at before she ditched. “This is stupid. I am not scared of talking to Draco.”

I slammed my empty mug onto the table and pushed my way through the students who were loitering over dancing. How long had passed since the song had started? Would Darrin be able to keep Pansy on the dance floor? Would Draco wait long before deciding to cut in? I just needed to move.

Acting timid wouldn’t get me anywhere. Bold was the solution.

Managing to make it behind Draco without Crabbe and Goyle paying me much mind, I stood on my tiptoes so I could speak into his ear.

“So,” I said, “it seems like my date stole yours away. What do you suppose we should do about that?”


	9. Year Four: Okay, So Maybe Marika was Right About the Rose Bushes

**Year Four**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Nine

Year Four: Okay, So Maybe Marika was Right About the Rose Bushes

* * *

Draco started enough that he almost knocked his shoulder right into my chin. Crabbe and Goyle let out startled grunts as Draco and I faced each other. I wished I had kept my drink so I could use it to hide the blush that was creeping up my cheeks.

“You’re the one who came with Botwright?” Draco asked, his knowledge of pureblood families and networks letting him easily identify just who had stolen Pansy away to the dance floor. He didn’t seem too torn up about the whole fair, and I couldn’t tell if I was supposed to be satisfied or disappointed by his lack of reaction. “Is that someone you consider worth your time?” There was an undercurrent of scathing reproach to his tone.

“Well, when you’re so insistent on ‘respecting’ me that you already have a date, there’s no reason for me to say no to an invitation, is there?” I said, falling into the usual tit for tat we had established. Considering confused was their default, it was impressive how Crabbe and Goyle’s faces could look even more lost. Draco waved them off, and sluggards disappeared into the Ball. “But it looks like who invited who doesn’t matter anymore, does it?”

Draco glanced back to the dance floor before letting out a sigh. “Were you the one who did that?”

“Would you be angry if I did?”

“That depends on what you want now.”

All of a sudden, my mouth felt very, very dry, but I forced the words out. “I’d…like to talk, Draco. And maybe go for a walk. I hear the rose garden outside is nice.”

If there was ever a moment for Marika to appear out of nowhere and start causing trouble, this was it. But she didn’t, and the Weird Sister’s ballad faded out to applause before they picked up one of their high energy hits. Magical lighting flashed around the room in tempo with the music. If Draco didn’t say something within the next thirty seconds, I was going to strangle him. It was his fault for sending his lackeys away like that.

“Alright,” Draco said, just as my fingers were starting to twitch. “We can talk outside.”

The clustered air of the crowded Great Hall broke as we stepped outside. The faint scent of roses mingled in with the crisp winter air. We avoided most of the people taking up most of the benches, but neither of us complained about the chance to stretch our legs.

“What did you want to talk about…?” Draco asked. The faint hesitation faded into the end of his sentence, as if he was unsure if he should call me Matrons or not. With much a similar pause, I realized I didn’t know if I wanted to call him Malfoy or Draco.

“A lot of things,” I said, deciding to leave the matter untouched. No matter what names we used, it was just us here. Why did we waste so much time putting up fronts against each other anyway? “But first I wanted to apologize for yelling at you over deciding to come with Pansy. Because that was my fault for being so stubborn and not asking you in the first place.”

I pulled a few steps forward before realizing Draco had stopped walking. Tugging on his sleeve, he picked back up the pace. It was embarrassing enough having this conversation out in the open; I didn’t need to make it easy for Marika to spy on me if she got bored inside.

“Well,” Draco said, sounding for once in his life like he was thinking before speaking, “that means I should apologize for arguing with you over it.”

This time, it was my turn to come to halt. “Hell,” I said, “is it just me or is the world going to end? Draco Malfoy just apologized for something.”

Draco spluttered. “I’m trying to be sincere here.”

“And so am I. I sincerely can’t believe we’re having a civil conversation.” I sighed and leaned against a rose bush, leaves scratching at the open back of my dress robes. Draco pouted but leaned next to be anyways. I stared at the shimmering fairy lights above, dancing to their own unheard music like giant fireflies. “We’ve been acting like idiots ever since summer.”

“Pardon me, but you’re the one who’s been acting ridiculous.” Since I had started smart-mouthing him first, it was only fair he could get away with it, too. It didn’t stop me from whacking him in the side, though. “Why is it that your solution to things is always hitting me?”

“Because it’s so satisfying.”

Draco clicked his tongue, the sound giving way to a chuckle. “It’d be easier if you just hit _on_ me instead.”

“Draco,” I said, turning to face him, “would you take me seriously if I did that so openly?”

“It’d be less painful.”

I stepped closer, looking over his face, starting to turn red from the air. When the hell had he started getting taller than me? It was so unfair. “Then don’t you dare make a joke about this.”

That time, I kissed him.

Considering our last few kisses had been at his initiative with me backed into trees, maybe it was fitting that I shoved him into a rose bush with the latest one. But regardless of who had started what before, it felt the same now: the satisfaction I’d denied the first times hitting full bloom in my chest. We broke for air for a moment, and I let my eyes drift open to meet his, before closing them and the distance between our lips again.

“That’s twenty-five points from Gryffindor for the both of you!” a cold voice said. Draco and I both jumped, knocking our chins together and smashing us deeper into the rosebush. Footsteps pounded around a corner towards us, and I looked up to see a scowling Professor Snape. “Malfoy, Matrons, do keep your _activities_ where others won’t stumble across you.” Before Draco or I could articulate a response, our head of house had swept back into the pathways, wand still clenched in his hand. I held onto the front of Draco’s velvety dress robes and burst into a giggle, his chuckles following soon after.

“Well, you heard him, Ivrena,” Draco said, tucking a lock of my hair behind my ear. “Do you want to turn in for the evening, already?”

“I think my tree is private enough,” I said, thinking of the open spot by the lake where one could argue this whole mess started in the first place. “I do believe there’s no point in going to a Ball if you don’t dance a little bit.”

Marika didn’t wait up for me; but that didn’t stop her, and near everyone else in the girls’ rooms from waking up as Pansy started screaming bloody murder after finding one of the Weasley twin’s experimental Canary Creams tucked into the chocolates she had gotten from Darrin Botwright.


	10. Year Four: This isn’t What I Wanted to Learn the Spell for, but How Could I Pass Up Such a Great Opportunity?

**Year Four**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Ten

Year Four: This isn’t What I Wanted to Learn the Spell for, But How Could I Pass Up Such a Great Opportunity?

* * *

Spring came, the Triwizard Tournament progressed, classes continued piling on work, and the weather became nice enough that Marika insisted on dragging the lot of us outside to study together. I couldn’t say it was the most effective strategy, but it did make it easier to hang out with Nickolle, plus Marika had offered herself up for human Transfiguration practice. I hadn’t taken her up on the offer, as Moody had just given me the go ahead to practice such spells in the past week, but it was nice to hear her support.

“So, how’d your date with Draco-chan at Hogsmeade go?”

Yes, her support was much preferable to the other thigs she decided to harp on.

“It was nice,” I said, trying to concentrate on my Astronomy readings. A group of less homework-drowned first years ran past, steering clear of Marika and I’s green and silver ties. “We went shopping together and ate out. Nothing interesting.”

“Oh, yeah? Then why’d you come back looking so flustered, Ivy-chan?” Nickolle peered over the top of her glasses. When I caught her gaze, she returned to her Arithmancy parchment as if she hadn’t been all that interested in the first place. Marika poked at my arm. “Come on, you can tell me, I won’t judge.”

I whacked at Marika’s hands with my book, and she settled for toying with a fake wand from the Weasley twins. “I’ll tell you what I’m doing with Draco as soon as you tell me just how you’re spending all your weekends with Fred and George.”

Marika for once looked flustered and became very interested in prodding at the toy with her real wand. Nickolle coughed, and peaceful silence fell back over our study picnic for about all of fifteen seconds.

“Matrons, you little Mudblood lover,” Pansy sneered, stomping across the grass. The gallivanting first years took note and fled in the direction of the Groundskeeper’s cabin. “I was having a hard time finding you, but I should’ve suspected you and Kanda would be hanging out with trash. You’re both a disgrace to our house.”

Nickolle shrank into her book, and Marika scowled, reaching into her robes. Not feeling like explaining just how Pansy Parkinson came into contact with whatever dangerous potion Marika had on hand today, I signaled for her to stand down. Marika growled and put a protective arm around Nickolle’s shoulder but didn’t lunge at our uninvited guest.

I took my time in standing up and dusting blades of grass from my robes. “Parkinson, some of us like to make good use of our free time to enrich our brain cells. I know that you don’t quite understand what that concept is like, so I’m just going to ask that you make this quick so we can get back to ignoring each other’s existence.”

Pansy puffed up her chest, not standing down. “Oh, I’ll make it quick, alright. You stay away from Draco.”

I sniggered, which might have been the worst thing I could’ve done. Pansy’s hand dove into her robes for her wand, and I reached for mine at the same time Nickolle squeaked while Marika leapt to her feet. “Easy there. You’re in a three on one situation, Parkinson. Do think your choices over.”

No matter what Pansy thought of Nickolle’s status, she couldn’t deny she was at a disadvantage. I was impressed she had come without backup, but she did have that Slytherin pride to her. She might’ve thought she could take us all.

Scowling, Pansy retracted her wandless hand. Marika did not offer the same courtesy. “Good,” I said. “Now let’s get to the real heart of the matter here. Other than you saying so, why in the world should I stay away from him?” I smirked. “Are you and Darrin Botwright not getting along anymore? You seemed to be enjoying yourself at the Ball.”

“I know you had something to do with that,” Pansy said, almost quivering from rage. “You and Draco both disappeared. I don’t know how, but you were involved.”

Marika snorted. “Took you six months to figure that out, did you?” she asked. Marika spun the toy wand in one hand and her actual wand in the other. “Say, Pansy, wanna guess which of these wands will actually curse you if I cast two different spells at you? We could make a game out of it.”

“Down, Marika.” Marika _hmph_ ed, still toying with the wands. “Regardless of what happened then, Draco and I are both in a perfectly consensual relationship right now. And while I admit you’re awful, if he wants to hang out with you, I won’t stop him. Heavens knows he has his problems with my friends. But if you want to start petty shit, Parkinson, I won’t hesitate to fight back, and Marika and Nickolle here will have my back. Think any of _your_ friends will be willing to stand with you?”

There was a silence as Pansy struggled for words. Not feeling like wasting more of my energy on her, I dropped back down to Nickolle’s eye level. Marika took the hint and sat down with us. “You gonna be okay?” I asked. “Do you wanna go inside and take a breather instead of stay out here?”

Nickolle shook her head. “I’ll be okay. It’s not the worst I’ve he—Ivy, look out!”

Pansy’s shadow fell over me, her wand arm raised. I didn’t know what spell she had in mind, but all that “constant vigilance” talk with Moody had taught me well enough how to pull out my wand and cast in a moment’s notice. Before her mouth could even start to form a jinx, the spell had already flown out of my wand and knocked Pansy back into the grass.

Marika hopped to her feet, wand and a vial of something blue as fizzy in her hand. Even Nickolle had readied her wand, whispering incantations for low level counter curses under her breath. With shuddering breaths, I stood up and eased my way over Pansy—before I had to turn the other way for fear of falling over her in laughter.

On instinct, I had tried to cast the ferret transfiguration. Not that I’d mastered it, but seeing Pansy Parkinson lined in thin black fur with whiskers poking from her cheeks and much smaller rounded ears made for the best laugh I’d had in a while. Marika made her way over and _did_ collapse to the ground, thoughts of her spell and potion carnage forgotten. Even Nickolle let out a fit of giggles, though she tried to stifle it in her palm.

Roused by our laughter, Pansy sat up, caught one look at her hands (where her nails had thinned into rodent claws), and bolted off screaming something about revenge.

“Sure thing,” I called after her, “come at me _any_ time you like!” _Bitch,_ I added under my breath, which sent Marika into a fresh wave of giddy laughter.

“I love you, Ivy-chan. You’re the best.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I sighed, laughter hitching in my throat. I ran a hand down my face. “Okay, we’re not gonna get any work done like this. Let’s get the sillies out and meet back up after dinner?”

Nickolle adjusted her glasses with a pleased smile. “I’m free this evening.”

“Roger that.”

By the time Nickolle and I gathered up our things, Marika had already vanished to who knows where. I walked Nickolle into the castle until our paths diverged, she assured me she’d be fine making it up to her common room on her own, and I settled for going to my own.

In the past years, I’d hated the place for being drowned in the prejudiced attitudes most of my house held. And that much hadn’t changed. But if nothing else, I could look forward to finding Draco there in our free time, which was good enough for me.

“Just so you know,” I said, sitting down beside him as he grumbled at his Divination homework, “whatever rumor you hear about me turning Pansy Parkinson into a half-ferret is completely true, except for the part where it was unprovoked.”

Draco put down his quill and raised a pale eyebrow at me. “Do I need to step in and stop another round of in-house disdain?” he asked, referring to how the year before he’d called off the cold attitudes of Slytherin towards me after I’d yelled him down from being such a whine ass.

I shook my head with a grin. “I appreciate it, but nah. I’ll be fine fighting my own battles, my own way, sweetie.”

His eyebrow retreated farther towards his slicked back hairline. “‘Sweetie’?”

“You’re right, that was gross; never again.”

Draco snorted. “Just try not to go too overboard, will you?”

“Don’t you worry, Draco,” I said, catching his thin fingers between mine. “You of all people know I only give people exactly what they deserve.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” Draco muttered.

But he squeezed my hand and kissed me anyway.


	11. Year Four: No Matter How This Looks, I’m Not Paying Anyone Off for Jinxing my Boyfriend

**Year Four**

By: Aviantei

Chapter Eleven

Year Four: No Matter How This Looks, I’m Not Paying Anyone Off for Jinxing my Boyfriend

* * *

“Fred, George, may I have a word?”

Given the past week with all the commotion at the final task of the Triwizard Tournament, it had been hard to sneak in any time to actually talk to the Weasley twins, so I had to settle for the ride home on the Hogwarts Express. There was a general sense of discomfort from inside the compartment. The twins waved Potter and co. back to their Exploding Snap game.

“No worries, this one’s here on business,” the one I thought was George said, standing up.

Fred (I thought) nodded. “We’ll be back in a jiffy,” he said, and I stepped out of the way to let them hop over the collapsed pile of Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle in the hallway. Shuffling back so there was enough room for us to stand without it having to be on my unconscious housemates, Fred and George clasped each other’s shoulders and leaned forward.

“ _Before you ask, he deserved it,_ ” they said together.

“Oh, I don’t doubt that,” I said. Draco may have improved in private, but his outward attitude was another matter. And while it pissed me off to listen to him…I also still liked that part of him, too. Chalk it up to _my_ poor taste in the matter. I tucked into my pockets for the sack of the rest of my pocket money for the year. “I thought I’d pass this on before we went home for the holidays. And it seemed rude to make Marika act as a liaison in this partnership.”

The twins caught the gold, shook the bag once, then stowed it away. “You’re really not just messing with us,” Fred said, sounding more amazed than I had hoped he would be. “Really, Matrons, what’s in it for you?”

“Well, those Canary Creams did a brilliant number on Parkinson. And, like I said before, I think this is nice. I know we’re not friends exactly, and I don’t know if we could be…but Marika cares about you, so the least I can do is offer you an open line of communication if you need extra help this summer. I’m more than willing to be a permanent investor.”

Fred and George exchanged glances before the latter spoke. “We’ll think about it, Matrons. Keep an eye out for an owl this summer.”

I tipped my head in a short bow. “Pleasure doing business with you,” I said. They both looked wary of a handshake, so I skipped it in favor returning to my own compartment, where Nickolle was laughing at some story Marika was telling her.

“Oh, Ivy,” Nickolle said. “Marika was telling me about her friends back home.” Marika’s stories tended to dismiss logic and reason—and this was coming from a witch. Then again, Marika tended to tell them when people needed distracting; given the return of the Dark Lord, Nickolle was at the biggest risk of us all. “Did you not stay to assist Draco, though?”

I flopped down into an empty seat. Marika dived into her pile of candy. “He’ll never learn from his mistakes if I clean up his messes for him. Let the little bugger stay knocked out for all I care. Oh, thanks.” I caught the package of Fizzing Whizzbees Marika launched at me and tore open the wrapper. “Though there’s a chance he might get worse next year. Sorry about that.”

Nickolle shook her head. “I know you don’t share his opinions, so you have nothing to apologize for.” I thought that over and started to suck on my Whizzbee, rainbow sherbet flavoring filling my mouth. “And despite the troubles that are coming, I know I’ll be safe. Please don’t concern yourself with me.”

“Yeah, no depressing talk! I get enough of that back home,” Marika scolded, snickering a bit as I began to levitate off my seat. She shook out a handful of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavored Beans and popped the whole thing into her mouth. Nickolle and I grimaced in unison. “Oh, hey, if you’re letting George-chan and the others still jinx Draco-chan, does that mean I still reserve the right to blow him up in Potions?”

“As long as it doesn’t cause permanent damage, sure.” Marika furrowed her brow, as if her repertoire of potions now held more dangerous options than ever before. “We’ll be alright next year. We just need to stick together.”

“Oh, oh, I know this one. Power of friendship!” Marika shoved her hand into the center of the compartment, beaming at me and Nickolle with more than a hint of expectation.

Nickolle nodded, adding her own hand to the pile. “Power of friendship,” she agreed.

“Or something like that,” I said, placing my hand on top.

“Alright!” Marika launched all our hands up into the air with a cheer. Still levitating, I almost tipped over, but Nickolle helped me regain my balance. “Maaaan, I love going home, but I miss being with you guys, too.”

“Well, it’s just three months,” I said, hovering above and ruffling her hair. “I’m pretty sure you’ll survive, then it’ll be back to the ordinary for us.”

And as much as I wanted to believe that, as my median year at Hogwarts came to a close, the return of the Dark Lord wouldn’t end well for any party involved, Draco and I least of all.

* * *

**To Be Continued in Year Five**


End file.
